Kiss With A Fist
by J-chan the Maniacal
Summary: Conflict can lead to the strangest places... One-shot, Wolverine x Cyclops slash! (Get it? X! *laughs*)


The X-Men filed out of the jet, giving Logan and Scott a wide berth. This round was more volatile than normal, kicked off mid-fight with a few of the Brotherhood's usual suspects by Wolverine's temper and a bit of unnecessary property damage. Cyclops was in rare form, having launched into a tirade that began as soon as they set foot back on the plane... that was still going strong.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Scott demanded, fuming after his teammate as the scruffier man stalked determinedly away from the confrontation. Jean had made him promise not to get into it with three-eyes today, and Logan would be damned if he would be the one to land the first punch. "If you had been one centimeter off with that attack, you could have killed half a dozen bystanders with the debris!"

"I got the guy, didn't I?" Wolverine shot him a look over his shoulder.

"You still don't get it! It's not always about 'getting them'. Nailing the badguys doesn't count for much if we hurt the people we're supposed to be protecting!"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Next time, I'll wait until tall blonde and toothsome has his claws around the hostage's windpipe before I make a move, alright?"

"Logan..."

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go get a drink. Something stronger than soda pop."

x-o-x

The corner bar was a favorite. It had the rough and tumble charm of the types of places he used to frequent on the road, without the loudmouthed truckers trying to start shit with him. Logan took his usual spot at the bar and, with a simple gesture and a "put it on my tab", had a beer in hand within two minutes.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to finish it.

"Oh, for the love of..." Logan grumbled into his drink as he saw Summers walk through the door, his sunglasses turning right to the bar. The boyscout made a beeline for him.

"I'll have what he's having," Scott informed the bartender with his infuriatingly charming smile, nodding towards his "companion". As he sat down beside Wolverine, his smile vanished, though he didn't say a word.

"Thought you weren't the drinking type?"

"I thought you'd be fist-deep in someone's face by now," Summers retorted.

"Hey, I'm not just an animal, pretty-boy. I can be the quiet, sensitive type, too. I'm multilayered like that."

Cyclops scoffed. "Suuure you are."

Logan arched an eyebrow wryly. "Not like your one-dimensional ass. What are your modes again? Oh, that's right: brown-noser. How long are you going to keep using that choir boy routine? Professor X doesn't play favorites. He's got that Zen thing going on."

"Asshole."

"Prick."

There was a long pause as the anger that had been brewing inside Summers took the time to come to a nice, steady boil. He glared at Logan hard enough that the other man could almost feel it. "That's it. Right here, right now."

Wolverine gave him a maddeningly calm stare. "Sorry. I don't hit guys wearing glasses." He dodged the first punch fairly easily; Scott might as well have been telegraphing it, the way he snarled. The second one, however, caught him by surprise, right across the cheek, and knocked him off his stool. A little harder and it might even have split the skin. Logan got up and smirked, running a thumb across the sore spot. "Okay, pretty-boy, if that's the way it's gotta be..."

Logan tackled his teammate, slamming him onto the floor. Waitresses squealed and patrons scurried out of the way. The pair struggled on the floor until Scott gained the upper hand, twisting him into a painful arm-lock. Logan's free elbow caught him on the jaw and sent him sprawling. Summers found himself being lifted into the air and hurled onto a nearby pool table, his side catching on the corner, the impact shooting pain through his body. He merely threw himself back into the fight with renewed fury.

They continued in that fashion until Cyclops started to run out of steam. Finally, Logan grabbed him by the arm and shoved him against a wall, pinning his face to the wood panelling. "Are you done?" Wolverine asked, breathing hard.

Scott, using one last burst of adrenaline, managed to twist around, throwing his foot back into the other man's shin to knock him off-balance. Then... he kissed him.

Logan's eyes went wide, his grip slackening in his shock at the move. In the code of fistfighting, the unexpected kiss was an effective tactic, but it was also cheating, by his reckoning. With his guard momentarily dropped, it was easy enough for Scott to sweep his leg out from under him, leaving Wolverine lying face-up on the floor gaping like a stunned fish.

Scott smiled. "Guess that makes me the winner."

Summers was misreading the physical signs. Logan wasn't lying there because he felt he'd been bested. He was lying there because he couldn't believe how good the younger man's mouth had felt. Or the fact that the surprise kiss had turned him on.

 _No way in Hell is he getting off easy after that_ , he thought with a growl. Logan grabbed at the leg of a nearby chair that miraculously hadn't been broken in their melee and chucked it at Scott, who raised his arms defensively on instinct. It impacted with a crack, making him stagger back, but that was all the opportunity Logan needed. He was on his feet in an instant, pinning his opponent to the wall once again, this time facing him.

"You're a sore loser-!?" Cyclops tried to fend him off, but by this point, he'd poked the beast a little _too_ hard. Wolverine's mouth was on his in a heartbeat, forcing his lips apart with his tongue, his hands trapping Summers' wrists against the wall to either side of his head. He shoved a knee between Scott's thighs as the boyscout started to protest, rubbing it directly against his sex.

Scott twisted his head away from Logan's, groaning out a breathy, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Raking sideburns and stubble along the other man's skin, taking a moment to lick his neck, Wolverine replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "Hey, you started it."

"Yeah- I mean no! I mean-" Summers made a harsh noise of approval as his teammate pressed in closer to rub against him. "Oh, I don't even care anymore..." A clicking sound brought him back to reality. A few of the waitresses were inching closer to get a better look at what was happening, one or two taking pictures with their phones. Scott shook his head. "Uh, we should really..."

"Agreed," Logan grunted. He pulled back and gripped Scott's collar roughly, dragging him towards a back door that led to an alley.

The bartender flailed his arms wildly. "Who's going to pay for all this?!" he cried, motioning to the chaos they'd sown in their wake.

"Put it on my tab." Wolverine pushed Scott through the door.

x-o-x

They were barely concealed behind a dumpster before Logan had him pressed against the dingy wall and was tearing at the fly of his jeans. Scott sucked in a sharp breath as the cool air hit his already-aching member, the sensation quickly replaced by a powerful hand closing around him. The strokes were rougher than what he was used to, but that made it all the more thrilling. He took hold of the collar of Wolverine's leather jacket and pulled him in for another kiss, the both of them moaning at the heat and the taste of each other. A bead of precum rolled from the head of his cock and was captured by Logan's thumb. The dark-haired man brought it up to his mouth and licked the essence from his finger. The sight made Scott shiver.

Logan backed up a step and started unfastening his own jeans. "Drop your pants," he said- commanded, really.

That was cause for a flash of panic. "Why do you get to be the top?" Scott asked hotly, all too aware of how much male length he would be taking in as he eyed the sizable bulge about to be freed from his companion's pants.

"Just drop them, idiot. If it'll make you feel better, I'll play the bitch next time."

The idea of getting Logan on his hands and knees certainly did help. And the promise of a second round of this sounded fantastic. Summers, a bit shaky from the buildup, complied at last and let his jeans fall around his ankles, stepping out of them.

"Front or back?" Wolverine was desperate for release, but not so desperate as to ignore a partner's preferences.

"Front? I guess? Honestly, I've never... _had_ a guy before, so I don't really know which would be better..."

Logan snorted. He came close, prompting Summers to part his legs. "Well, if you're not prepped, it'll hurt like hell..."

Cyclops took Logan's hand and brought it to his lips. He sucked two fingers into his mouth, working to get them thoroughly coated in saliva. He smirked around the digits at the groan it elicited from the hairy male. He released them after another slow suck and spread himself wider. He jerked against Wolverine as the two fingers slipped between his legs and sought out his entrance, the tip of one forcing its way past the ring of muscles and wriggling around until the other could slip in beside it.

"You've got to relax," Logan breathed. The way his teammate was clenching around him, it was going to be a tight fit no matter how much prep work he put into this. His fingers slid in to the knuckles as Scott relaxed his body, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. A series of slow, scissoring thrusts eventually brought him to a point where he was panting, moving his hips in time with the motion of Logan's hand. He gasped as the fingers withdrew and he was lifted up, a bracing arm sliding into place beneath each of his knees.

"Help me get it inside." Wolverine looked at him, lamenting only that direct eye contact was always going to be impossible between them.

Scott nodded, reaching down between them to slick the other man's own arousal down his shaft and position the head at his anus. "Oh, sh-it...!" he stammered as it pressed in, thicker than the fingers had been. Logan eased inside until he hilted, sweat rolling down his temple.

"Are you okay?"

"Don't ask! Just h-hurry up and start moving!"

The thrusts started gently, each man getting used to the feel of the other, gauging what worked and what didn't. It couldn't last, though. Logan needed the friction too badly. He bucked harder, watching his partner carefully for any sign of pain. When Scott ground against him, teeth clenched, nails digging into the leather at his shoulders, he increased the pace.

One thrust hit balls deep, striking Summers prostate. He threw his head back so hard that it sent his sunglasses flying, exposing wide eyes to the night sky for a brief second, the scarlet flash lighting up the alley before he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "Don't you dare stop!" he warned as Wolverine slowed down. "And do that again!"

It wasn't long after that that they both neared the end. Scott came with a groan, his seed flowing freely. The spasms brought Logan tumbling over the edge, spilling into Summers' taut backside with a low roar. When, trembling, he was sure he wouldn't drop the man, Wolverine gently let go of his companion, letting him fall to his unsteady feet. The two dressed in silence, hoping that they hadn't made such a mess of their clothes that their actions would be obvious.

"So..." Cyclops began, trying to sound casual, "you mentioned we might do this again?"

Logan huffed out a laugh. "Yeah. The next time you decide to pick a fight."


End file.
